


Miles

by TheReluctantShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Attempted Murder, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Castiel (Supernatural) Has a Cat, College, College Student Castiel, Complete, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Talks Dirty, Dirty Talk, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Falling In Love, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapping, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Protective Dean Winchester, Shower Sex, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Stockholm Syndrome, Top Dean, Unhealthy Relationships, Virgin Castiel, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: Castiel Novak finds himself kidnapped on New Year’s Day by someone from the peripheral of his life. Dean assures him that he doesn’t want to hurt Cas in any way, and in fact is… Expecting Cas to escape?“You’ll get out of here, Cas. You’re miles smarter than me.”





	Miles

**Author's Note:**

> This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I claim no ownership over any of the characters, or the world of Supernatural, however grateful for them I may be, which is hella.
> 
> This is what I wrote when I should have been working on my WIPs. I was sick as hell, hopped up on cold medicine, and watching Criminal Minds. One of the episodes made me think, “You know what no one ever wanted? A Destiel AU based on this episode.” And so basically 30 pages of ridiculousness was born, in a two-day flurry of writing, and named “Miles.”
> 
> Just kind of a warning, the relationship depicted here is NOT HEALTHY. It's bad. Don't fall in love with people who kidnap you. Just don't do it. It's bad.
> 
> Another disclaimer: I have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about, really. The med school, Stanford, kidnapping another human being, being kidnapped myself, I've never done any of that, so you may have to suspend disbelief for a moment.
> 
> I’m sorry? Thank you for reading?

****_ “Happy New Year!” _

Castiel Novak cheers with everyone else, his arm slung around his brother Gabriel’s shoulders. He’s not… One  _ hundred _ percent certain where they are, but it hardly seems to matter. His brother is graduating next year, and Cas is still halfway through his residency, which means it’s the last year that he’ll be able to celebrate New Year’s Eve with his brother.

The last year he’ll have a friend at college.

He pushes the melancholy thought way forcefully and drains his champagne.

Cas knows that Gabriel just hangs out with him out of a sense of duty, a sense of pity. Castiel just… Doesn’t make friends. He has a hard time relating to other people, a hard time putting time into friendship customs that he doesn’t understand. He has no urge to go out to bars, no urge to “pick up chicks” (and even if it was “pick up dudes,” which is more his preference, he wouldn’t), or to do really anything but study quietly by himself. He has a cat named Claire, that has to count for something, right?

Gabe says no, and since Gabe has a giant group of friends and is generally well-liked, Cas has to assume he knows what he’s talking about.

Cas doesn’t know if he wants more friends after Gabriel graduates. He likes having his brother around (even if Gabriel can be a bit much sometimes), but he’s okay with the way he is. The only person he speaks to with any frequency is the guy who delivers from the Chinese place, and outside of that, Claire has always been a good sounding board for ideas.

You don’t have to be a people person to be a doctor, you just have to go to medical school.

“Cassie!” Gabe says happily. “Cassie, get out of your head! The night is young!”

Cas frowns. “It’s midnight. I believe the night is the opposite of young.”

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Take another shot, Cassie, come on.”

Castiel does.

* * *

Cas has a very, very high tolerance for alcohol, and always has. So he must have had a truly impressive number of shots to be stumbling back to his dorm like he is.

He hums tunelessly as he walks along, hands buried deep in his trench coat. Snow is drifting down, and in a moment of uncharacteristic whimsy, he looks up and opens his mouth to catch it on his tongue.

Unfortunately (and he blames the whimsy for this, which is why he so rarely indulges it), looking up means he’s not looking forward, and being drunk means he hasn’t stopped walking. These circumstances combine to mean that Cas has no way to  _ not _ run right into the solid wall of muscle standing on the sidewalk.

Strong hands on his upper arms steady him. “Woah, woah. Hey, man, are you all right?”

It seems the sheer quantity of alcohol that Castiel consumed is catching up with him. The world swims around him.

“Hey! Hey? Cas? Cas, you all right?”

Castiel squints at the person in front of him (the person he ran into? Did that happen?). “Huh?”

A deep chuckle wakes up awareness at the base of Cas’ spine. “All right, all right, partier. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

He blinks. “Yes, I think that’s best.”

Cas feels his arm being drawn over a set of broad shoulders. An arm wraps around his own waist tightly and starts to direct him. He frowns. “My dorm is… The other way.”

“Dude, it’s way too cold to walk. We’ll take my car. I can drive you home.”

This makes sense to Castiel, so he nods and starts to try to help whoever it is holding him up. “Thank you,” he slurs. The alcohol is really starting to hit hard.

He feels himself be placed into the passenger seat of a big car. A rough palm cups his jaw for a moment, but that can’t be right. Even Castiel knows that touching a stranger’s face is weird.

The feeling is gone in just a moment, though. Maybe he imagined it.

The door slams shut next to him and Cas leans back against the seat, willing the world to cease it’s spinning.  _ I’m lucky that someone so kind was there to find me, _ he thinks blearily.

The driver’s side door opens and his savior settles himself behind the wheel. “Let’s get you home.”

Castiel is getting so  _ tired, _ but he turns his head to look at the other man. He squints again. “Don’t I… Know you from somewhere?”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.”

“And how do you know my name?”

The alcohol overwhelms the one alarm bell going off in Castiel’s head, and he falls asleep to the sounds of classic rock music.

* * *

It’s the last time that Castiel Novak breathes outside air for over half a year.

* * *

Cas wakes up on his back, on top of the covers, wincing against the pounding in his head. He tries to take stock of himself and his surroundings.

The first thing he notices is that he isn’t home. There’s no sunlight streaming onto his face, and no Claire sleeping on his chest. He feels a pang of sorrow and regret. He hates leaving the little tabby cat alone all night.  _ I’ll give her some tuna to get her to forgive me. _

It’s when he sits up that what’s wrong with the situation really sinks in.

He has no  _ idea _ where he is. At the very furthest, he should be at his brother’s apartment, just off campus. Gabriel rents a three bedroom with a couple of other seniors. When he does stay the night, Cas falls asleep on the couch. Gabe’s roommate, Michael, usually throws a blanket over him, since Gabe himself is just as likely to draw a phallus on Castiel’s face as he is to try to care for him (outside of caring for him by letting him come over for what Gabe calls his “prescribed human interaction time”).

He’s in what appears to be a pretty normal bedroom, the walls painted a soft white, the carpet a rather boring beige. He’s on a queen-sized bed (a luxury for a scholarship med student) with a dark blue comforter on it and four pillows at the top. There’s a bookcase on one side of the room that’s stuffed to the gills with what look like well-loved books. They’re shoved into every available space, and there’s even a stack on the ground of books that wouldn’t fit. There’s what looks to be an en suite bathroom through slightly open door, also decorated in dark, royal blues.

There are no windows in the room he’s in. He can’t hear anything around him, but thinks he hears the faint sounds of a television playing from above him. Maybe he should start making some noise, and the person watching TV can come release him. Although, he’s not sure if that makes sense, because surely if some is here, they’re part of the reason he’s been kidnapped?

Castiel is not a panicker. In any given situation, provided that he has enough time, he will take the circumstance in front of him and examine it from every angle, until he’s considered all possibilities, all variables. It’s just the way he was built. It’s part of what will make him a very good doctor.

So, sure, he could start screaming and beating at the walls and the doors. He could give into the alarm steadily building in his chest. He could do those things, but not only would that let whoever brought him here know that he’s awake, but he’s got an excellent idea of what flinging himself against the walls will do to the rather delicate bones in his wrists and hands. He’ll pass.

There’s the sound of footsteps coming down stairs, and before he can really prepare himself, the door is opening.

What strikes Castiel first about the person who comes through the door is that he’s not that much older than Cas himself, if he is at all. Dark blonde hair, green eyes, freckles, a strong build, maybe a few inches taller than Cas.

What strikes him second is  _ holy mother of God he’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. _

There’s a shy, nervous smile on the other man’s face as he shuts the door behind him. “Hiya, Cas.”

Castiel blinks. “How do you know my name?”

Something flashes in those green eyes, but it’s gone too fast for Cas to catch it, and he doesn’t know the other man well enough to decipher it, even if he had been able to read it. “I, uh, I must have overheard someone say it.”

That… Doesn’t seem right, but Cas decides to let it go for now. It’s not what’s important.

He lets his eyes flick around the room significantly, then looks back up at the other man, who’s taken a couple of steps closer. He cocks an eyebrow, and he’s utterly shocked when his captor starts to blush. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“‘Sorry?’” Cas echoes, confused and incredulous.

The other man signs and rubs a hand down his face. “I know, I know.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dean.”

Cas’ eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Dean? Like… Dean, the guy from the Chinese place?”

Dean blushes harder. “Uh… Yeah?”

Cas remembers, all of the sudden. Sparkling green eyes and an easy smile handing styrofoam boxes over the doorway. Casual flirting, but Cas is so incredibly  _ awkward _ all the time, and as much as he wanted to return it (he did), he just didn’t know how.

“I got kidnapped by the  _ Jade Garden guy?” _

Dean winces at the word “kidnapped,” but doesn’t argue with it, just shrugs. “I… Guess?”

Okay, as attractive as Dean is (which is incredibly,  _ incredibly _ attractive), this whole situation is, as Gabe would so succinctly put it, fucked.

“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone anything, Dean.” He thinks he should be using Dean’s name a lot. Right? Did he read that somewhere? Wait, maybe that was families of victims using the missing person’s name a lot.  _ Shit. _

Dean smiles a little, and something about it makes Cas’ heart clench. It’s intrinsically, terribly, poetically sad. “You don’t need me to let you go.”

“What?”

“You’ll get out of here, Cas. You’re miles smarter than me.”

Cas blinks. “I’m not following.”

Dean is still standing in the middle of the room, and he sighs. “Look, I… Just… I just need you for a little while, okay? Just for a little while.”

“What does that mean?”

Dean comes to sit at the edge of the bed. He’s not looking at Cas, he’s staring at the opposite wall, at the bookcase. “I know this is fucked up, okay? I do, I promise. I just… I got no one else, and this has already been…” He takes a deep, shuddery breath and rubs his hand hard across his mouth. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Dean, if you let me go, I-”

“Come on, Cas, you know you’re gonna get outta here without me.” Dean says it so casually, like it’s a foregone conclusion that Cas knows how to pick a lock or get out of a hostage situation. “I just…” Dean sucks in a breath through his nose and drops his hands to his head. “I just need you to not try for a couple days, okay? Please?”

Cas frowns. “What happens in a couple of days?”

“Nothing. I just… There’s no one else, Cas. I just need someone, just for a minute.”

Despite the situation he’s been put in, Cas’ heart is aching at the pain in Dean’s voice. “Dean, you know you could have just  _ asked _ me to be there for you, if you’re going through a difficult time.”

Dean snorts derisively, and before Cas can be offended that Dean wouldn’t want to be his friend, Dean starts to speak. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just gonna walk up to one of the smartest people I’ve ever laid eyes on, who can barely wait to get me out the door when I deliver to him, which is my  _ job, _ who’s good-looking, who’s going to  _ medical school, _ for fuck’s sake. That’s the guy, the one I’ve probably said less than a hundred words to in the last  _ three years, _ that’s the guy I’m gonna go ask if he can ‘be there for me,’ or whatever that even means.”

Dean’s words are bitter, and Cas tries to ignore the sting. “I would have tried to be there for you,” he protests.

“Cas, I know you a little better than you must think I do. You’d never agree to come hang out with a stranger to let him vent his problems to you, and don’t bother lying to me about it, we both know it’s true.”

There’s no heat or venom to the words, but they do shut Cas up. They remind him that he’s a hostage here, that he’s in  _ danger. _ “Well, I’m here now,” he says, keeping his voice steady and reasonable. “What problems do you want to vent?”

There’s some silence, then Dean smiles at the wall. “Oh, man. This is so fucking stupid. I don’t know? I mean, I guess…” He shakes his head. “Are you hungry?”

The switching tracks makes Cas’ head spin, but he nods slowly. He  _ is _ kind of starving.

Dean claps his hands together and stands. “All right, I’ll be back in, like, half an hour, okay? I’ll go make breakfast.”

Thinking quickly, “I could help, you know. I’m okay in a kitchen.”

Something flashes in those green eyes again. “I’m sure you are, but you really, really can’t. Okay?”

“Why?”

Dean doesn’t answer, just strides to the door, unlocks it with a series of keys from his pocket, and shuts it behind him when he leaves. Cas hears the faint  _ snicks! _ of several locks being engaged behind him.

_ Shit. _

* * *

When Dean comes back with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, Cas has thought about what he wants to say. “They’re going to know I’m missing pretty quick. I have classes today.”

“School’s shut down,” Dean says casually. “The snow came down pretty hard after we got back last night.”

“Did you… Plan it that way?”

Dean snorts as he puts the plate down on the bedside table, along with a fork and a mug of coffee. “To be perfectly honest with you, Cas, I didn’t plan a damn thing.”

Cas snorts. “Then why do you have a door that locks automatically behind you?”

Dean goes to sit against the wall next to the bookcase. Cas takes this as a sign that he can sit on the bed and eat. He pulls the plate into his lap and nibbles on toast as Dean speaks.

“Because I had to be able to shove Sam in here and lock him in.”

Cas cocks an eyebrow. “Sam? Is he another…”

Dean smirks. “Jealous, baby?” At Cas’ flat stare, he snorts again. “No, you’re the only person I’ve ever  _ kidnapped, _ Jesus. Sam’s… Sam’s my little brother.”

So there  _ are _ other people living here. “How old is he?”

“Twenty,” Dean says wistfully. “He’s at Stanford, his second year.” The pride in his voice is unmistakable. “He wants to be a lawyer. He’s gonna be great at it.”

“Why did you feel the need to lock him in here?”

“My dad used to beat the shit out of us,” Dean says casually. Cas can feel his eyes widening, but Dean’s continuing like it’s no big deal. “Well, me, anyway. I wouldn’t let Sam get involved. I managed to get those locks on the door down to a science, can open them in a few seconds if I need to. I’d drag Sam up here, toss him in, shut the door, and then go back up and deal with Dad.” He smiles a little. “Glad that’s all over.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Cas doesn’t blaspheme a lot (a byproduct of being from a religious family, even if he himself is not), but  _ Jesus fucking Christ. _

Dean shrugs. “Point is, Sam got out with a minimum of scarring and beating, and now he’s at Stanford.”

Cas picks his fork up to start on the eggs (which look delicious), but pauses. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m still here.”

“I mean, what about you? Do you plan to stay here indefinitely?”

Dean’s face, which was open and honest, shutters closed. “There’s still some things I have to take care of.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t… Want to talk about that.”

Cas frowns. “Then what am I here for?”

“Is there anything you need?” Dean’s habit of changing the subject is annoying, to say the least, but what can Castiel even do? He’s  _ literally _ a captive audience.

So he sighs. “Clothes, maybe?”

Dean nods. “I can do that.”

“What, you’re going to break into my dorm?”

Another one of those damnable shrugs. “Pretty much the plan, yeah.”

Cas can feel his eyes bulging again.  _ “What?” _

“Cas,” Dean says slowly, patiently. “I literally kidnapped a full grown man off of a public sidewalk. What makes you think breaking into a college dorm is any harder?”

“I guess I don’t think like a  _ criminal,” _ Cas spits.

Dean blinks. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you don’t,” he says softly, withdrawing in on himself. Cas watches, fascinated, as Dean’s shoulders round, his hands go to clasp behind his back, all working to make himself seen smaller.  _ Abused, _ his mind supplies helpfully.

“I’ll go get some stuff for you,” Dean says to the floor, and before Cas can object, he’s out the door, and the locks are reengaging.

_ Damn. _

* * *

Dean is gone for several hours this time. There’s a small analog clock on the table next to the bed, and it tells Cas that it’s early evening before Dean returns.

In the meantime, Cas explores his little space.

Beneath the bed is remarkably clean, void of dust bunnies. There are lines in the carpet, flat places that tell Cas that there were boxes here at some point. Other than that, the bed is mostly unremarkable. The frame is clearly from a big box store. The sheets and blankets are high-ish quality, all done in dark blue. He wonders if they were bought specifically for him, or are leftover from Sam’s own forced exile into this room.

The rest of the furniture is simple, too. There’s a little dresser that matches the bed. The bathroom is fully stocked with towels, toothpaste, the basics. Even an electric razor.

The bookcase, though, is fascinating.

Castiel assumes that most of the books are Sam’s, only because Sam was in here, but there’s such a wide variety present he can’t help but think at least a percentage of them belong to Dean. The Vonnegut, in particular, speaks to him of Dean, although he couldn’t say why.

A great majority of it is fiction, but there’s some nonfiction, as well. Books about cars and bugs and laws, and Cas has no idea why he thinks this, either, but he thinks only the ones about cars are from Dean. As far as the fiction, he attributes all of the science fiction to Dean, and the rest of the stories are adventuring tales, which he thinks probably came from Sam.

Cas has no frame of reference for any of this, he just… Believes it.

He’s pulled a book from the shelf and is reading on the bed when the door opens again.

He looks up from his book, and the first thing he sees is the little carrier he keeps Claire in while they’re travelling. After that, a duffel bag and a box make it into the room in quick succession, followed by Dean himself. Another shy smile graces his face, and Cas reflects ruefully that Dean’s face really is one that’s suited more to smiling than the sorrowful expression he often carries.

“Hiya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean gestures to the things he brought in. “You don’t… Actually have much stuff. But I brought your clothes, and the cat, and her stuff. I got your books, too, from school, so you don’t fall behind.” He frowns. “I guess. I don’t… Actually really know how college works. But that should help, right?”

“I mean, ideally I could  _ go to class, _ but this is fine.”

Dean doesn’t flinch at all, just pulls the stuff further into the room. He picks up the carrier and walks over to hand it to Castiel. “She’s real sweet, Cas. Talkative, too, meowed the whole way here.”

Claire is one of the few things Castiel is passionate about. He found her his first few weeks at college, shivering and half dead under a bush in front of his building. He nursed her back to health, got her vaccinated and spayed, and he just adores her. So anyone who’s nice to Claire wins points.

Of course, Dean’s in the negative for points because he  _ kidnapped Cas and his fucking cat, _ but other than that seems like a nice man.

So Cas smiles. “She’s wonderful, yes.”

When he takes the carrier from Dean, their fingertips brush. Cas’ breath hitches, just a little bit, so subtle that Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but Cas notices. Dear  _ God, _ does Cas notice, because sparks trail up his arm and make his heart start to slam beneath his ribs.

_ Oh, no. _

He can _ not _ be attracted to Dean. Dean is a crazy person  _ (is he, though? Maybe he’s just lonely.) _ who  _ kidnapped _ him  _ (please, like you had anything going on anyway) _ and is keeping him captive. He can _ not _ be attracted to Dean in any way, because that would be insane, no matter what the little voice in his head insists.

“Thank you,” he says, and prays that Dean attribute the slight breathiness to the natural gravelly tone his voice has.

It appears that he does. “No worries, Cas.”

* * *

The days start to fade into one another after that.

Cas reads through the books in the bookshelf, and is almost completely unsurprised when Dean brings him more boxes without asking. When he’s done with those, he stacks them neatly next to the shelf.

He also works through his medical textbooks again. He hasn’t told Dean that he’s in his residency and therefore doesn’t need to reread the textbooks. The gesture struck him as thoughtful, though, so he’s loathe to make Dean feel stupid by bringing them.

Dean also brings toys for Claire, and ends up constructing a cat tree for her in the corner of the room. He gets her higher end food than Cas would have been able to afford, and always has a kind word and a treat in his pocket for her when he comes in to see them.

Cas does things like run lightly around the room, or does pushups or crunches, to keep as active as possible. He didn’t really worry about it before, what with walking around campus with pounds of books on his back, but he knows he needs to keep fit in his tiny space. He does it while he knows Dean’s at work, so he won’t be interrupted.

He’s learned quite a bit about Dean, too.

Dean works in construction four days a week, which is why he has the physique that Cas so admires (on the sly, give him  _ some _ credit). He doesn’t really like or dislike the work, but it keeps food on the table and a roof over his head, so he says, and he doesn’t believe he’s smart enough to get much else (which Cas thinks is bullshit).

He also delivers at night, although he’s mysterious about why he must have two jobs now. He started delivering Chinese just before Cas got accepted to UMKC Med for his residency, but won’t tell Castiel  _ why _ he got a second job, or why he’s kept both for so long.

He spends as much time as possible with Cas in his room, just listening. He doesn’t just want to talk  _ to _ Cas about himself, no, but he often listens to anything Castiel has to say. It’s… Rather heady.

It’s just that… In Castiel’s day to day life, or what  _ was _ his day to day life, he didn’t really have anyone. Gabriel, of course, loves him, but Cas believes that’s probably more out of duty than any real sort of common ground or affection. Cas loves his brother, too, but again, they’re so vastly different, he’s not sure if they would be friends otherwise.

Other than Gabe, Cas doesn’t have any friends at all.

So it’s an interesting experience, talking to Dean, telling him about his life. Dean’s a rapt audience, laughing at the right places, expressing sympathy or anger when the story calls for it. It’s… Kind of addicting, having someone hang on your every word, Castiel discovers.

He has to remind himself every day that he’s a captive, that he does  _ not _ want to stay here, and that he does  _ not _ enjoy being here. Just because Dean is taking care of him, making sure to bring him his favorite foods and his favorite Chinese order and petting Claire and making sure Cas has reading materials, none of that means anything. Dean  _ kidnapped _ him.

_ I need to remember that, _ he tells himself grimly, at least once a day.

* * *

Cas has examined every part of his room to find a way to get out.

He’s concluded that he’s in the basement of a house, purely by virtue of he can hear Dean open and close the door upstairs when he leaves, as well as other noises of life up there. So there will be no breaking down walls, or anything of the sort (not that he could even if he wasn’t in a basement).

The door is heavy, and the locks are done completely from the outside. That makes sense, actually, from what Dean has said of Sam, that he hated when Dean would lock him in here so the older brother could take the brunt of the beatings from their often drunk father. Dean also says that Sam was smart, so it stands to reason that the locks would be complicated enough to stymie a smart teenager’s attempts to break out of the room.

Dean’s always careful to make sure the door shuts firmly behind him, too. So escape has been… Elusive, to say the least.

* * *

It occurs to Cas, some weeks after he’s taken from his life, that though Dean is right about his likelihood of accepting Dean’s offer of friendship out of the blue, should it have happened that way, he and Dean really could be good friends.

Dean is one of the kindest souls Castiel has ever met. He keeps cash on hand to give to people on the street  _ (“I thought they’d just use it to drink?” “That’s awfully close-minded of ya, Cas, and even if they do use it for booze, you think they don’t deserve a drink if they’re living outside in a Kansas winter?”) _ . He’s frequently home  _ (not home, you do not live here) _ from work late because he’s picked up a stray cat or dog and taken it to the local animal shelter to be cared for. Dean is all around just a lovely human being, kidnapping and subsequent forced captivity notwithstanding.

He’s a very, very good listener, too. He listens to Cas bitch about America’s healthcare system and how it works against patients. He raises good points, and asks thoughtful questions. When Cas brings it to attention by calling Dean intelligent, or (God forbid) suggesting that Dean take some classes, he blushes and deflects more stubbornly than Castiel has ever seen in anyone else. It’s ridiculous.

Since Cas has very little to do but worry that his family is upset by his disappearance and read, he thinks about Dean quite a bit. Dean has assured him, after Cas stuttered out the awkward question, that Cas isn’t here for Dean to have sex with (a revelation met with mostly relief, just a little bit of disappointment from his traitorous dick, with whom Cas has had a long talk with about what is and is not acceptable behavior). Dean was horrified and hurt by the question, though he tried to mask that with humor. Castiel fought to make himself not feel bad about asking, because not only was it a perfectly reasonable question,  _ Dean is his captor. _

It is a thin armor at most against guilt.

* * *

Several weeks into the situation, Castiel estimates it to be approximately mid-April, is when things start to unravel a bit.

* * *

Castiel is anxious.

He hasn’t seen Dean in two days, which is not only uncommon, it’s  _ unheard _ of. Dean comes in in the morning before he goes to work, he comes in between shifts at the construction site and the Chinese joint, and he comes in when he gets home. Sometimes he falls asleep on the floor of Cas’ room between one word and the next, he’s here so often.

So  _ where is he? _

It’s not that Cas is out of food or anything. Dean has left plenty of food in the room, because Dean himself is the kind of person who snacks all day, and he wanted to be prepared for Cas to be the same. So he has enough bread and peanut butter and crackers to last him quite a while. Claire even has an entire extra bag of food under the bathroom sink. So sustenance isn’t the issue.

While Cas doesn’t have any laundry machines, it’s not like he  _ does _ anything to make his clothes particularly dirty. Even if he did, he has the shower and the sink, he could wash them by hand and let them hang dry. It’s not like there’s anyone around to object to him walking around in his skivvies. It’s not laundry that has him worried.

To his consternation, it’s  _ Dean. _

Castiel doesn’t think he has Stockholm Syndrome. He’s thought about it quite a lot. One of the contributing factors of Stockholm is that the victim feels intimidated and scared by their captor, who will often beat or frighten them into submission. Dean has done none of that. Dean was just… Lonely, and went about fixing that problem in a truly inadvisable manner.

And Cas isn’t… He just isn’t really  _ prone _ to affection. He loves Gabriel, he loves his mother, and he supposes that he must have moved his father in some distant way when he was still around, but that’s about it, and it’s probably more a product of circumstance than anything else. He  _ has _ to love those people.

Maybe it’s because he’s the only person that Cas has seen in months, but Cas really likes Dean. He’s attached to that kind smile and the dancing green eyes and strong hands and  _ oh no you don’t out of the gutter with you, _ he harshly reminds himself.  _ You are not in a romantic relationship with him. _

Nevertheless, he’s never gone this long without seeing Dean, and he’s starting to get worried.

* * *

Two days later, four days total without seeing Dean, and Castiel is in a full blown panic.

Claire can tell something is wrong. She’s meowing softly, walking with Cas as he paces from one end of the room to another.  _ Going to wear a line into the carpet, _ he thinks, rather hysterically.

He thinks he might be hallucinating the dragging footsteps on the stairs. Nevertheless, he goes to the door and waits anxiously.

He’s  _ definitely _ not hallucinating the  _ clunk _ sounds of the locks being undone, and as soon as he hears the last one (there’s five), he grabs the doorknob and flings the door open, ready to read Dean the riot act for leaving him alone for so long.

Instead, he freezes.

Dean’s pale and sweaty, with dark circles under his eyes, his blonde hair lying limp against his skull. He’s wearing loose clothing, a t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweats, and both seem to be hanging off of him. His feet are bare, which is a first.

_ “Dean?” _ Cas’ horrified whisper.

Dean manages a weak smile. “Hiya, Cas,” he says roughly, just before he pitches forward a bit.

Cas catches him easily, and unthinkingly drags him forward so he can kick the door shut behind him. He flushes with panic for a moment. “Dean, do you have the keys?”

“Pocket,” Dean murmurs. “Sorry.”

Cas drags Dean over to the bed and unceremoniously pushes him onto it. Dean goes easily, his flushed face barely registering the change in position. Cas frowns down at him, debating.  _ Fever, _ he thinks, then works quickly to pull Dean’s t-shirt and sweats off, leaving him in just his boxers.

_ You are a doctor, _ he scolds himself as he tosses Dean’s clothes in a pile at the end of the bed.  _ You’re going to see attractive men naked frequently, so get used to it now. _

He goes into his bathroom and finds a thermometer in the cabinet. He fills a glass with water, grabs the trash can, and comes back into the bedroom. Dean is where he left him, and Claire has hopped up onto the bed, sitting next to Dean’s head, sniffing his damp hair with as much concern as a cat can possibly muster.

Cas sits on the bed next to Dean’s hip and reaches up to tap his cheek. “Open,” he says firmly.

Dean’s eyes, dull with illness, light up a bit with humor, and he drops a slow wink as he obeys. Castiel, who has learned that Dean’s humor ranges from surprisingly highbrow to down and dirty jokes, just rolls his eyes and sticks the thermometer into Dean’s mouth. “Shut up,” he says sternly. Dean’s eyes just dance humorously in response.

He takes the thermometer out and whistles. “One-oh-two. Dean, you need a hospital.”

Dean shakes his head and groans. “Can’t.”

Cas frowns. “Dean. You  _ need _ to.”

“Too much to do,” Dean moans.

When he tries to sit up, Cas barely has to put one hand on his chest to keep him down. “Dean, you’re too weak to argue with me.”

Another groan. “Cas, I got stuff I gotta take care of.”

“Like what? I’m fine.”

“Not just you.”

“What?”

When Dean’s eyes open, Cas realizes they’re not twinkling with humor. They’re bright with  _ fever. _ Dean’s fucking  _ delirious. _

“I gotta take care o’ Dad,” he mutters, head rolling to the side defiantly.

Cas frowns. “Your father? What do you mean?”

“Dad… Can’t work the stove…”

“Can’t… Work…”  _ Oh, dear God in heaven, help me. _ “Dean, does your father live here?”

Dean nods, his whole head moving, like a child does. “Yep. ‘pstairs.”

“He lives upstairs?”

Another nod.

“And you… Care for him? You  _ take _ care of him?”

Nod.

“... Is he sick?”

Nod.

Cas sighs. “And you take care of him because he cannot care for himself?”

Nod.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says sorrowfully, reaching up to card his fingers through Dean’s hair. This is the most he’s touched anyone in months, and the first time he’s touched Dean at all outside of the night Dean took him. Cas supposes he’d feel more touch-starved if he got touched regularly in the first place, but outside of slinging his arm around Gabriel at New Year’s, he can’t remember voluntarily touching another person for weeks beforehand.

He also can’t think of a person who deserves to be touched gently more than Dean does. Dean, who takes care of a father who abused him so much that he will still curl into a defensive position if presented with confrontation. Dean, who locked his little brother in a bedroom to keep him from being beaten, too. Dean, who, though he  _ did _ kidnap Cas, is the first person  _ ever _ in Castiel’s life who asks, “how are you?” every day and really means it, isn’t just asking out of a sense of duty or politeness.

“All right, no hospital,” he says softly, ignoring how thick his voice has become. “But you’re going to stay down here as much as possible so I can take care of you, okay?”

Dean shakes his head, eyes still fever bright. “No, no, Cas, gotta go.”

Cas frowns. “You’ve got to go where?”

“Nah, Cas, you gotta go. Can’t stop you. Keys in pocket. Gotta go.” Dean’s eyes are fluttering shut as he insists that Castiel escape.

Cas blinks.  _ Fuck. _ It never even occurred to him to leave. He could, in fact, just walk out, drop the keys inside before he lets the door shut behind him.  _ I should go. _ Gabriel’s face flashes in his mind, as does his mother’s.

He looks down at Dean. “Do you want me to go?”

“Never,” Dean says immediately. “Never want you to go, but you gotta, Cas. I’m bad.”

“You’re not  _ bad, _ Dean.”

“Bad, bad, bad,” Dean says, again childlike with his fever. “Gotta save yourself. Gotta go, I make people bad.”

“Dean,” Cas says firmly. He makes sure Dean’s eyes are on him, and although he isn’t sure how much of what he’s going to say will really sink in, he knows he has to say it.

“I am not going to leave you. You did not deserve what happened to you as a child. I don’t pretend to know your reasons for caring for him, but the fact that you’ve taken your father on means you’re an incredibly good person. I can’t think of anything bad you’ve done, anyway.”

Dean snorts, and it’s the first time he’s sounded lucid since he’s walked in. “Kidnapped you, Cas. I took you. Should let you go.” He starts to attempt to dig in his pocket for the keys, and his face contorts rather comically when he realizes he’s no longer wearing his sweats.

Cas only debates his next action for a moment.

He lays his hand gently over Dean’s, never letting his eyes stray from those lovely green ones. “Dean,” he says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Maybe Cas is crazy. Maybe he’s lost his goddamn mind, and he needs to get the fuck out of here so he can get it back.

He kind of finds that he doesn’t care, though.

He’s been a little bit in love with Dean for a while, and hearing him insist that Cas needs to go for his own good just cements it. Even if Dean is straight (as evidenced by his refusal to even touch Cas usually, and his insistence that Cas isn’t here for Dean to have sex with), Cas will go on loving him in any way he allows.

It might be Stockholm, but Cas doesn’t care.

* * *

It takes Dean’s fever a day to break.

It does so while Cas is leaning against the headboard, his legs stretched along the length of the bed. Dean’s head is resting on his thigh while Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s greasy hair and he reads with his other hand. He’s just deciding that the heroine of the story is a bit of a ditz when Dean starts to stir.

He memorizes the page he’s on, then sets the book down on the night stand gently. He looks down at Dean, who’s groaning and starting to stretch. His color, while still pale, looks much better, and when his eyes flutter open, it’s the first time since he stumbled into the room that Cas thinks Dean might be really seeing him.

The thought is further confirmed by Dean’s slow, confused blinks. “Cas?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean looks around in confusion. He’s plastered against Cas’ leg, his head still resting on his thigh. Claire has curled up at the small of Dean’s back, and she’s sitting up now, blinking sleepily at him and yawning to show off her long teeth.

“What happened?”

“You were extremely ill. You had a ridiculously high fever, and refused to go to the hospital, so I had to take care of it here.”

Dean’s cheeks are turning red for what Cas suspects to be an entirely different reason than before. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, Cas-” he puts a hand on Cas’ knee to start to sit up.

Before he can, Cas places one hand on the side of Dean’s neck, keeping him where he is. “Stay, Dean,” he says, quietly but firmly. “I know that you need to go care for your father, and we  _ will _ be talking about you keeping that from me, make no doubt about  _ that. _ But you need to rest, eat, and maybe take a hot shower.”

Dean collapses down onto Cas without too much fight, but he does groan. “Cas, I gotta get up and take care of Dad.”

“I know,” Cas says reasonably. “But you won’t be able to take care of anyone if you’re too sick to move.”

He’s surprised to feel Dean nuzzle into his leg, just a little. “What are you, some kind of doctor?” he teases.

Cas smiles. “Something like that.”

* * *

Things change after that.

The first is that they’re touching  _ all the time. _ Cas has never been so physically affectionate with another person, but now he finds himself seeking out Dean’s fingers threaded in his own, Dean’s shoulder to lay his head on while he reads. It’s completely out of character for Castiel.

Dean seems all right with it. A few weeks ago he brought a television and a DVD player into the basement, so they frequently curl into each other on the bed and watch movies. They’ll talk for hours after that, often so that Cas wakes up with his head pillowed on Dean’s strong chest in the morning.

It’s… Weird, but it’s amazing. Cas loves every moment of it. He knows that’s strange, he knows it’s probably not okay, and probably not healthy, but he just… Doesn’t care. He loves Dean, and even if Dean doesn’t feel exactly the same way, Cas knows that he at least cares about him, and if that’s all he’ll ever get, Cas will take it.

* * *

Several weeks after Dean is well, everything comes crumbling down around them.

* * *

The moment he hears Dean on the stairs, Cas knows something is wrong.  Something is very, very wrong.

He stands as the door opens. “Dean?” he asks immediately. “Dean, what happened?”

Dean’s face hasn’t been as unreadable to him as it is now since he was first in this basement. “I gotta let you go, Cas,” he says dully, letting the door stay open.

_ “What?” _ Cas feels more panic now than he did when he realized he’d been kidnapped.  _ Something fucked up there, _ he thinks. “What? Why?”

“I’m… I’m a bad guy, Cas. I can’t  _ believe _ I did this to you,” Dean’s speaking fast, like he won’t be able to get it all out if he stops and thinks about it. There are tears standing in those green eyes. “He was right, I’m a selfish coward, and I’m so, so,  _ so _ sorry.”

Cas is shaking his head. “I forgive you, I forgave you a long time ago.”

“That don’t make it right.”

“I didn’t say it does,” Cas counters, taking a step forward, closer to Dean. “What brought this on?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean leaves the door open and strides across the room. He pulls the duffel bag he brought Cas’ stuff in so long ago out from under the bed and drops it on top of the comforter. He then starts pulling clothes out from the little dresser and putting them in the bag. “It doesn’t matter, he was right, you’ve gotta go back to your life.”

“Dean, did you… Did you tell someone about me?” The pure wash of cold fear that cascades through Castiel takes his breath away.

“No,” Dean says immediately, and Cas gets a breath of relief for a moment. “But I’m gonna turn myself in after you go.”

_ “What?” _

“I mean, everyone thinks you ran away, except for Gabriel.” Cas is shocked at the news. “Everyone says med school was too much for you, but he knows you were taken.” Dean’s tears are falling freely now, and they’re  _ killing _ Cas. “He knows some son of a bitch stole you, and he’s not keeping quiet about it, neither. You’ll have a real easy time going back. Everyone will be real happy to see you.”

Cas approaches Dean slowly, his hands spread out in front of him, like he would a spooked animal. “Dean, I don’t understand what brought this on.”

Dean shrugs as he finishes packing Cas’ things in the duffel. “Came to my senses.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean looks up, and the pain in his eyes rends at Cas’ heart. “It doesn’t matter if I’m alone, Cas, not if it’s between that and you getting to live a life.” A derisive snort. “What was I gonna do? Keep you in here forever? Please.” Dean shakes his head. “You gotta go, go be a doctor. Go save people.”

“Dean,” Cas says, hating how weak and breathy his voice sounds.

“I’ll be all right. They’ll ship Dad off to a state run nursing home, which kinda sucks, but it’s out of my control now. I’ll go to prison, which is  _ no less than I deserve, _ and you’ll go be happy.” Dean smiles, and it’s like there’s jagged pieces of glass in Cas’ chest, tearing him up and making him bleed. “Go find some nice girl to be happy with, yeah?”

“I’m gay, you nitwit,” Cas says. It’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Dean stills for just a moment, then shakes his head. “Cas, it doesn’t-”

Cas doesn’t want to hear anymore. He crosses the room in two long strides and throws his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean’s breath stutters, and he holds himself stiffly. Cas doesn’t care, just keeps himself where he is, pressed up against Dean.

“Cas,” Dean says, his voice strained, like he’s barely able to hold back. “Please,” he whispers brokenly.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Cas says vehemently, raising up on his tiptoes until his lips are at Dean’s ear. “Please don’t make me go.”

Suddenly he’s being crushed against Dean, and Cas has never been so happy to be unable to breathe. He hugs Dean fiercely, tears prickling in his eyes. Dean’s arms are iron bands around his waist, almost holding him up off of the floor.

Dean’s shaking, just a little, but he buries his face against Cas’ neck. “Cas, I  _ kidnapped you.” _

“And I forgave you.”

“I held you for  _ months. _ You’ve been here for  _ months.” _

“And I forgave you.”

_ “Cas.” _

_ “Dean.” _

Cas pulls his head back and watches as Dean reluctantly does the same thing. He meets his eyes and is overwhelmed by the love he feels in his heart for this man, this terribly broken man. “I love you,” he admits in a whisper.

Dean’s eyes widen. “You… You can’t mean that.”

“Of course I can, don’t be obtuse.”

“You  _ can’t. _ I mean, it’s probably Stockholm Syndrome or something. Once you’re back out there, you’ll realize that-”

“So you  _ are _ making me leave?”

“I’m letting you  _ go.” _ Dean sounds desperate, but Cas doesn’t care.

“Do you love me?”

“You know I do.”

That stops Cas in his tracks. He looks up wide-eyed at Dean. “Really?”

Dean smiles. “Of course I do, dummy. Loved you since the third day.”

Cas smiles for real, feeling his heart lighten. “Then let me stay. We can make this work.” At Dean’s incredulous look. “Not with me staying down here forever, of course, but we can be in a real relationship.”

“Everyone knows that you went missing, you can’t just show up and us start dating. It’ll look weird.”

“So we’ll move.”

_ “Cas,” _ Dean says, exasperated. “We  _ can’t.” _

“Why not?”

“Because you’re going to wake up someday and realize that you’re in a relationship with the guy that  _ abducted _ you, that you’re  _ not _ in love with me, and that this whole thing is so fucking  _ fucked-” _

“Have I ever told you that I’m a virgin?” Cas asks, cutting Dean off. At Dean’s bewildered head shake, he continues. “You’re the first person whose hand I’ve ever held. You’re the first person I’ve ever told about my father, about my mother, about Gabriel. Dean, I… I have a very hard time getting close to people. I’m unpleasant to be around-”

“Hey, you’re just kind of honest-”

“-and I don’t understand pop culture references-”

“You’re just always  _ studying, _ you don’t have time for-”

“-and I stand too close to people and stare for too long.”

“I like it when you stand close and stare at me,” Dean protests, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world.”

Cas nods. “To me, you are.” Before Dean can protest. “I understand your hesitation, this situation is fraught with ‘maybes,’ ‘what ifs,’ and ‘what might happens.’ But I don’t care about them. I love you, and I want you, and if we have to move away and change our names, I’m okay with that. There’s nothing much here for me, anyway.”

“What about your family?”

“They’ll be all right without me. Before we leave, I’ll have to send them a letter, but they won’t care very much. I’m a duty, nothing more.”

Dean frowns. “That can’t be true.”

Cas smiles. “Not everyone sees me like you do.”

Dean groans and leans down to press their foreheads together. “We can’t, Cas,” he whispers. “I still gotta take care of Dad.”

“When we disappear, they’ll put him in a state run home, you said it yourself.”

“I don’t  _ want _ that to happen. While I can, I need to take care of him.”

They’re silent for a long time, just soaking in closeness and trying to think of solutions. There are few.

“What brought this on?” Cas asks softly, worried that breaking the silence will break the spell.

Dean is silent again for a long time, almost long enough that Cas doesn’t think he’ll answer. “I called Sam.”

Cas’ eyebrows raise. The brothers rarely speak to one another. “Oh?”

Dean huffs a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I was, ah, calling to see if he’s planning on coming home for the summer. He said hell no, and I was trying to just be like, ‘all right, whatever you want, man,’ but he started in on me about taking care of Dad.”

“He doesn’t think you should be.”

“He thinks I should leave the old man in a ditch to die,” Dean says bluntly.

“And he… Called you selfish?  A coward?”

“He called me a coward. ‘Daddy’s blunt little instrument,’ he said, that I just go wherever he wants me to go, do whatever he wants me to do. Family… I dunno, I guess family doesn’t mean the same thing to Sam as it does to me. He says he’s gonna go home with this girl he met, Jess. When I asked when I could meet her…” Dean’s eyes are welling with tears again. “He said he told her that his family’s dead.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas whispers, reaching to scrape his fingers through the nape of Dean’s neck, moving through the soft hair there. “I’m so sorry.”

“He said he didn’t want me to call him again, that he’s done with the whole Winchester family. I think he might even change his name.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dean shrugs. “The kid was always destined for better things. I’m not surprised he wants to leave us behind.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s fair.”

Dean presses his lips to Cas’ temple, and Cas closes his eyes to savor the contact. “Doesn’t matter,” Dean murmurs. “I… I guess I don’t know what to do now.”

Cas leans back and looks at Dean evenly. “Do you have to work tonight?” Dean shakes his head, and Cas grins. “Good,” he says firmly, then goes up on his toes and press his mouth hard to Dean’s.

For a heartstopping moment, Dean doesn’t respond. He barely even moves under Cas’ careful kiss. Then a soft intake of breath, barely heard, and everything changes.

He pulls his arms back until his hands are on Cas’ hips, and he hauls Cas even closer, if that’s even possible. Cas moans and threads his fingers through Dean’s hair, tugging hard at the same time that he catches Dean’s bottom lip with his teeth, worrying it between them until it’s pink and shining when he pulls back.

“Dean,” Cas says softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

Dean’s eyes darken, and even just from one kiss, his breath is heaving and Cas can feel him thickening in his jeans.

Which is why Cas is bewildered when he’s set down on his feet and Dean has backed away, hands up like he has to defend himself against Cas. “No,” he says.

Cas feels his heart land somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes. He swallows hard, working to make sure his voice isn’t too thick and his eyes don’t tear up. “Of course, I’m so sorry. I’ll just… Um, go take a shower, I suppose-”

“Cas,” Dean cuts him off, staring at him with those unreadable green eyes. “You can’t… I can’t take your consent seriously right now.”

Cas’ brow furrows. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re… My  _ victim.” _

“We’ve already discussed that, Dean. I forgave you.”

“While you’re still  _ here,” _ Dean protests desperately. “You can’t forgive me if I’m  _ still doing it to you.” _

Cas puts his hands on his hips. Claire meows plaintively from near the bed. “Why the hell would you think you’re still doing  _ anything _ to me?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“If I tried to leave, would you stop me?”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I tried to leave, right now, would you stop me?”

“Uh, no, no, of course not. If you want to go-”

“Then how am I a captive?” Cas takes a step toward Dean and is heartened when the other doesn’t take a step back. “If I’m free to go whenever I want,” another step closer, “then how am I still your ‘victim?’”

“Cas,” Dean says, pained. “You just… I mean, I’m the only human interaction you’ve had for  _ months. _ There’s a pretty good chance that once we get back out there, once  _ you _ get back out there, you won’t want anything to do with me.” Dean’s eyes have tears in them again. “I should make you leave,” he whispers.

Cas’ heart seizes in his chest and he closes the space between he and Dean. He throws his arms around Dean’s neck again, and is gratified when Dean’s arms immediately circle his waist and he buries his face in Cas’ neck. “Please,” Cas whispers, tears making his voice thick. “Please don’t make me go.”

Dean’s breathing hard, leaving a warm, damp patch on Cas’ neck that he weirdly cherishes. “At least… Not for now,” Dean finally concedes. “Not for now.”

“I’ll take it.”

* * *

When Cas wakes up the next morning, many things are the same as when he first came (was brought) here.

The room is still bare. He’s a pretty tidy person, so he hasn’t really left any signs of himself in the room, except for the massive addition to the number of books. Dean has been bringing them by the boxful the whole time, and Cas reads them all. Still dark blue bedding, still the biggest mattress he’s ever slept on.

There are, of course, a few major differences.

He has Claire now, although she’s not sleeping on his chest currently. He has a television for the first time in years, and a neat stack of movies next to the DVD player. His clothes are here, and this room that was his prison has now become a bit more of a home.

Mostly due to the man whose bare chest is pressed against his own shirtless back.

Dean’s spooning him, pressed to Cas from shoulder to knee. It’s incredibly reassuring, and Cas can’t help but thread his fingers through the ones on the hand pressed to his belly, keeping him close to Dean.

Dean stirs behind him, grumbling and smacking his lips a couple of times. The sounds are very familiar, making Cas smile before he’s even properly awake. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Mm,” Dean hums against his skin, his thumb running back and forth on Cas’ bare stomach. When Dean shifts and ruts gently against Cas’ ass, the feeling of his erection takes Cas’ breath away.

“I… I thought you didn’t want to,” Cas says breathily, even as he presses back, hoping his words don’t make Dean stop. He just has to know, he doesn’t want to give Dean anything more to feel guilty about.

“Changed my mind,” Dean murmurs, laying little kisses along Cas’ spine and shoulder blades. His hand is travelling slowly south, giving Cas plenty of time to say, “no.”

He doesn’t, just lets his breathing get faster and faster.  _ “Dean,” _ he whimpers. “Are you sure?”

“Want you.”

“You wanted me yesterday, too.” Dean’s hand is on Cas’ hip now, and he uses it to hold him still while Dean presses up in between Cas’ cheeks, making both of them moan a little.

“Always wanted you.”

Cas shudders at the possessive note in Dean’s voice. “Oh… Okay. I just don’t want you to regret this later.”

That seems to get through to Dean. He stops for a moment, then moves so his lips are at Cas’ ear. “Are you going to regret it?” Then, begging, “Be honest with me.”

“No, no, I do, I want it,” Cas says quickly. “I just… You were so adamant…”

“Fuck it,” Dean says casually, dipping his hand into Cas’ sleep pants. “I want you, you want me, and even if I don’t get to keep it, I want this.” He runs a single finger up the underside of Cas’ straining erection, making his head swim as heat ricochets through him. “Do you want this, Cas?”

_ “Yes,” _ he whispers, whimpering and trying desperately to move into Dean’s touch, to get more friction, more of this incredible feeling.

“Good,” Dean says fiercely, just as he wraps his hand around Cas’ length and starts pumping firmly. Cas shudders and tries to hold still, but he can’t help the little thrusts he’s doing into Dean’s hand. He bites his lip to keep his desperate cries inside.

“I wanna fuck you, Cas,” Dean murmurs into his ear, the darkness in his voice making Cas’ eyes roll back in his head. “Once we get settled, sweetheart, I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t sit for  _ days.” _

_ “Dean.” _

“Just like that.” Dean’s hand is moving faster, from base to tip, his thumb swiping precome that’s almost pouring out of Cas. “You’re gonna say my name just like that when I fuck you, when I’ve got you all spread out in front of me. I’ll take my time, pick you apart and put you back together again.”

Cas is gasping and rocking back and forth to press against Dean’s hard length, then fuck back into Dean’s hand, wrapped tight and wet with his own precome. He’s beyond the ability for words, he had  _ no idea _ this could be this good. Cas has only ever touched himself, he didn’t know.  _ “Dean.” _ He’s usually much more verbose than this.

“Gonna come for me, Cas?” Dean’s still whispering in Cas’ ear, filthy and hot and damp. “Just for me, let go, sweetheart, I’ve got you-”

Cas comes hard enough that he thinks his ears might be ringing as immense pleasure crashes through him, seeming to last forever, making him writhe in Dean’s arms. He registers Dean letting his cock go to grip Cas’ hip again, smearing his own come on him, which sends more heat spiralling through his gut. Dean’s rutting against him fast and hard, his breath making the back of Cas’ neck damp now.

Drowsily, Cas reaches back to thread his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Wanna feel you come, Dean,” Cas murmurs, low and rough. Dean gasps and shakes his way through orgasm, leaving a spreading, warm, wet spot that Cas can feel through his sweats.

Cas turns around to lean up and press a gentle kiss to Dean’s mouth. “Good morning.”

Dean grins, still panting, and throws an arm around Cas to pull him closer. “Mornin’.”

They come down gradually, wrapped in one another, until the drying come smeared all over them drives them to the shower. Which ends with Dean on his knees, swallowing around the tip of Cas’ cock and jacking himself until they’re both exhausted and not much cleaner than when they stepped in.

They crawl back into bed after the shower, Dean on his back with Cas’ head on his chest. When he wraps his arm firmly around him, Cas smiles and presses a kiss to the warm skin his cheek is pressed to before drifting off to sleep again.

* * *

“What the  _ fuck _ is this?!”

Cas gasps awake and jerks to a sitting position at the same time as Dean does. It would be kind of funny, were he not staring in horror at the man he assumes to be John Winchester himself.

There’s a lot going on in Cas’ mind as both he and Dean try to absorb this development.

The first is that this is the first person, outside of Dean, that Castiel has seen in over a  _ year. _ It’s strange to see someone who doesn’t have Dean’s perfect cheekbones, his straight nose, his  _ ridiculously _ beautiful mouth. It’s kind of rocking Castiel’s world.

The second is  _ anger. _ This is the man who made Dean believe that the only way he could be close to someone is by  _ kidnapping them. _ By  _ forcing _ another person to be with him was the only way Dean would be able to keep someone there by his side. Disregarding that Dean is certainly one of the best human beings Castiel has ever met (maybe some morality notwithstanding), it’s a horrible thing to make anyone think. The man in front of him is a monster.

The third thing is that they went back to bed in just underwear, so they’re both only wearing boxers.

“D-dad? What are you doing down here?”

Dean has told Castiel a bit about his father. John Winchester is slipping into dementia, and is only very rarely lucid enough to do anything for himself. Dean cooks for him, cleans the house, cleans John himself, he does everything for his father.

You know, the one who abused him so badly he felt he would need  _ five _ locks to make sure his little brother wasn’t targeted.

John is pointing a finger at Cas. “That’s the kid from the news!”

Dean is scrambling out of bed, but Cas is frozen in shock. “Dad,” Dean says. “Dad, what are you doing down here? You know you can’t come down the stairs by yourself-”

_ “Don’t _ talk to me like I’m an idiot, boy,” John snarls. “This what you been doin’ since I been confused?  _ Abducting college students?” _

_ “No, _ of course not!” Dean sounds pained again, and his voice is different, more deferred. He respects John, sees him as an authority figure. Castiel understands, even as it pisses him off. “He’s just… I mean, he just  _ looks _ like that guy-”

“And when did you become a fag?” John snaps, and Cas watches in sorrow as the blood drains from Dean’s face.

“Dad,” Dean says softly. “You need to go back upstairs.”

“Fuck you, you  _ kidnapped _ this little faggot.”

“Dad, I-”

“We gotta get rid of him.”

Cas’ eyes widen at John’s words, and he starts to clamber out of bed to stand next to Dean. Dean immediately sweeps Cas behind him, taking a protective stance in front of him. “No, Dad, we’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Looks like you already  _ did _ do something  _ stupid,” _ John sneers. Cas feels Dean physically flinch at the venom in his father’s words. “And now I gotta take care of it, just like always. Some things never change, do they, boy?”

Dean’s still shaking a little, but he straightens to his full height and stares his father down. “Dad, I’m not gonna let you hurt him.”

_ “Fine,” _ John spits. “Then we’ll call the cops, and your useless faggoty ass can go to jail. They’ll just  _ love _ you in jail.”

Cas can’t fathom the amount of hate in John’s words. How can someone feel that way about their own son? Especially when that son is as gentle and caring as Dean has always been?

“Mr. Winchester,” Cas starts, “if you could just-”

“No one was talking to you!”

_ “Hey!” _ Dean snaps. “You don’t talk to him, you talk to me.”

John draws himself up to his full height. “You’d better show me some respect, boy.”

“You’d better start earning it, then, huh?” Dean asks, unimpressed.

That seems to snap something in John. Though diminished by his disease, John Winchester is still fast and strong. He makes it across the room and shoves Dean out of the way, hard enough that he hits the wall and slides down, dazed, in less time than it takes Cas to comprehend what happened.

John tackles Cas, and they go down. On the one hand, Castiel has never been a physical man. He doesn’t have the brute strength that John does, so there’s no way for him to throw the much bigger man off of him. (Cas is really better at reading than fighting.)

Cas is, however, a doctor.

John’s hands are wrapped around Cas’ neck, and he can feel himself already starting to react viciously to the lack of oxygen, especially in the face of such a clear danger. Cas ignores the instinct to claw at the hands that are choking him, forces himself to take just a moment to calmly examine the situation.

_ Option one, he’s going to kill me. Dean will be heartbroken, but will help hide my body. I love him, but he can’t help it, he’ll follow John’s orders without me here. Dean will stay here until his father dies, and then he’ll rot in this house, waiting for a brother who will never come back. _

_ Option two, I defend myself, but try not to permanently harm John. I don’t have the physicality to keep him off of me forever, so Dean will have to pull him away. They’ll fight, but the only way it will stop him is if Dean can bring himself to kill him. If Dean has to kill him, he’ll never recover, though. He loves his father, twisted as it is. _

(Yes, Cas can appreciate the irony of the statement.)

_ Option three. I take care of it. _

With that in mind, Cas tightens all of his fingers into a sharp point and jabs as hard as he can right at John’s adam’s apple.

_ Trachea collapses. Inflammation in an attempt to heal. Patient will suffocate if not properly intubated. _

John’s eyes bulge out of his head unpleasantly, and he rears back, releasing Castiel to claw at his own throat. Cas gives him one good shove to get him off, then gets to his feet and hurries over to Dean, who’s staring at his father, stricken.

He gently cups Dean’s face and tilts his head forward so he can examine the back of it for swelling or bleeding. “Are you all right? Dizzy? Trouble breathing?”

Dean shakes his head and looks up at Cas again. “No, no, I’m okay.”

Cas looks back over at John, whose movements are slowing, but he’s still clawing at his throat. “I… I’m sorry, Dean. He’s…”

“Is he gonna die?”

Cas looks back at the man he loves and nods miserably. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Dean wraps a hand around the back of Cas’ head and kisses him fiercely. When they separate, Cas looks Dean in the eye, looking for signs of hysteria. “Dean?”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry at you.”

“Dean, I just murdered your father. Of  _ course _ you’re mad at me.”

Dean shakes his head and starts to get to his feet. Cas follows, still majorly concerned. “No, Cas, you didn’t. He… He was trying to kill you.” Those green eyes swing to Cas, darkened in concern. “Are you all right? Jesus! Your neck!”

Cas realizes that there’s a burning in his throat, and he winces. Dean leads him to the bathroom, fretting the whole way. When he gets to the mirror, he sees the angry, reddened flesh on his neck.  _ Those are going to bruise, _ he thinks clinically, poking at the skin and watching it turn white, then fade quickly back to red. “Ow,” he croaks, then flinches at the way his already deep voice is roughened from the damage.

“Cas,” Dean says, pained. He turns Cas to face him and cups his jaw, his thumb running reverently along his cheekbone. “God, I’m so sorry he got to you, baby.”

Cas wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrist, shaking his head. “It wasn’t your fault,” he rasps.

“Shh, don’t talk, honey,” Dean murmurs, cradling his face. Dean’s eyes harden. “We gotta get out of here.”

After Cas nods, they go back into the bedroom. John’s body is there. Though it is a formality (because Castiel knows exactly how much force it takes to crush a human being’s windpipe, and he knows exactly how much force he hit John with, and those numbers are the same) he bends down to check his pulse. He finds nothing, and he looks up to Dean and shakes his head.

Dean lets out an explosive breath, but doesn’t seem surprised. He nods decisively and puts his hands on his hips. “Okay. We gotta grab the cat and go, babe.”

* * *

It takes surprisingly little time for them to pack up the essentials. A few sets of clothes for each of them, a couple of their favorite books (Cas sneaks a couple of extra Vonnegut in for Dean), and Claire. She takes the longest purely because she’s terrified, and it takes Cas a few minutes to coax her out from under the bed because she doesn’t recognize his voice.

He has a low-key panic attack when they leave the basement. It’s been his home for almost six months now, he hasn’t left it at all.

Dean’s wonderful.

He wraps his arms tight around Cas and puts his chin on top of his head. “It’s all right, take as long as you need, baby.”

“This is so stupid,” Cas mutters into his shoulder.

“No, it’s not, Cas. You went through a trauma, you’re gonna need some time to adapt.” Cas doesn’t miss the guilt in Dean’s voice, and holds him tighter in response.

“I can’t focus on getting out the door if I’m trying to comfort you.”

He feels Dean smile into his hair. “Yeah, yeah, message received.”

* * *

Once they’re on the road, Cas is better.

There’s some sort of circular sense to the fact that he came to this home in Dean’s car, and now he’s leaving in the same. He expresses this thought to Dean, who just smiles and pats the Impala’s dash. “Yeah, Baby’s magical.”

Cas watches Dean drive them through the town. The line of his shoulders is still kind of tense, because they’re not quite in the clear. He’s worried that Cas will be recognized, but he hasn’t shaved in a while (Dean likes the beard) and his hair is getting long (Dean can’t cut hair, and Cas is  _ just _ vain enough to not want to cut it himself because he’ll butcher it), so Cas himself isn’t concerned at all.

Otherwise, the evening sunlight highlights Dean’s dark blonde hair, shines on his five o’clock shadow, makes his green eyes glow. Despite the tenseness he carries, Dean’s pretty mouth is curved just a bit in happiness.

Maybe Dean’s really fucked up in the head. Hell, maybe Cas himself is really fucked up in the head. Maybe if they had met under normal circumstances, everything would be all right.

But they didn’t.

“Hey,” Cas says, his voice still scratchier and rougher than he’s used to, “I love you.”

Dean reaches across the seat and takes Cas’ hand in his. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback gets me hot and heavy.  
> Dean calling Cas pet names makes me weak in the knees, sorry (not sorry).


End file.
